Chapter 35
When Elsa retired to focus on some more intricate work, Lucy’s care was passed over to Hekili.
At present he was working on an intricate carving on the back of a wooden chair.
As her eyes traced over it, she saw a story unfolding and she began to recognise the familiar images compacted into the wood.
‘Is that the Bayeux Tapestry?’ she asked in admiration.
‘I think that’s what they called it. I only saw a print in a book. But that’s what the client wanted. He has Norman ancestry.’
‘Let’s hope it stays that way.’
‘You don’t mind selling your creations like this?’
‘Not me. My work is for sale, but not my stories. See these?’ He pointed to his arms, dark skin covered in tattoos. ‘These are my story. My family. My journey. Myself. Those aren’t for sale. But my work? Sure. But isn’t that the same for all of us?’
‘Not all of us. But I see your point.’ She gazed around the clearing, the late-afternoon sun drifting through the leaves. ‘Do you miss your home?’
‘Sometimes. Mostly the water. It’s too cold in this country. I think one day I’ll go home again. When I’ve made enough coin. When I feel it’s time. Until then, this is home for me.’
‘Your family?’
‘Ohana. That’s a word my people use. Family but … not just blood or marriage. Far as I can tell, there’s no word for it in English.’
‘And Torres, Elsa, Ulcha. They’re … ohana?’
‘Must seem like a pretty strange family from the outside.’
‘I think that’s most families,’ Lucy mused.
‘Speaking of …’ He looked up as a familiar coach came into the clearing, Torres in the driver’s seat and Dashwood as messenger.
They pulled up next to the workshop, clearly in a good mood, which Lucy found infectious.
‘Where have you been all day?’ Lucy asked, curiosity overcoming her tact.
‘Shopping.’ Torres laughed. ‘We make an excellent team. I know where to get the best bargains and he has the money.’
‘An allowance from my father for caring for Elsworth. Thankfully the place looks after itself well enough that I have a little left over.’
‘So why not take advantage of the Chelmsford Markets?’
Torres hauled a sack from the back of the coach; flour, she guessed. As they offloaded, she realised that, while there were some treats, most of the cargo was essential supplies. Once again, Dashwood excelled at ingratiating himself.
‘Have you heard the local tale of the headless horseman, Captain?’ Torres asked as they sat around the fire once more. It was mid-evening and they were partaking of a simpler meal of sausages, stew and bread.
‘I’ve heard mention of it. Soldiers are often fond of collecting ghost stories.’
‘Oh, it is simple enough. A ghostly white rider without a head. The story goes that he was a crusader who believed that as long as he rode his white horse, he would be invincible. He was captured during a battle and his enemies knew of him and his boast. So they cut off his head, tied him in the saddle and sent his horse back towards the crusader lines. But the horse and rider kept going, all the way home, and never stopped.’
The story hung in the air over the campfire, as all good ghost stories should.
‘I dare say there are more earthly mysteries to be solved in these parts.’ Dashwood laughed.
‘Such as?’ Torres enquired curiously.
‘Three coaches. All found abandoned this year. No sign of crew or cargo.’
‘Ghost ships on land?’ Hekili asked.
‘I should say more likely the work of excellent thieves,’ Dashwood replied earnestly.
Lucy tried her best not to look awkward, taking a large mouthful of stew lest she was asked a question.
‘And killers,’ Torres noted coolly.
‘What makes you so sure?’
‘One crew goes missing, perhaps it is an inside job. Three crews? Not likely. Even if they were paid off, one of them would have slipped by now. So I’d wager those men are dead and buried.’
‘Buried where?’
‘It’s a big country.’ Torres shrugged. ‘We’re living in a castle in the forest that no one even knows is here. Much easier to hide a body than hide a castle. Several bodies though? You’d want a regular spot.’ The Spaniard paused, thinking over the problem. ‘No signs of a struggle?’ he enquired.
‘Not so far as I’ve heard, though the tales might be exaggerated.’
‘A clean robbery like that … It’s difficult work.’ Torres spoke with an air of experience.
‘I’m sure it is,’ Dashwood agreed. ‘How are the sausages by the way?’
‘Good,’ came an unknown voice from the other side of the fire.
Lucy flinched, but saw the others had remained calm. It took her a moment to realise it was Ulcha who had spoken.
‘If robberies are happening, perhaps some additional defences might be added to the coaches,’ Elsa suggested. ‘As a precaution.’
‘Hard to do without knowing the nature of the robberies,’ Dashwood countered.
‘Perhaps. But maybe some kind of a spring-loaded trap system.’ The woman put down her plate and began sketching in her notebook.
‘I think, Captain,’ Torres smiled, ‘that any robber would be foolish to attempt such a trick against a driver of your experience.’
Dashwood nodded. ‘Likewise, Senor Torres. Likewise.’
The next morning, when breakfast was done, it was time for farewells. Captain Dashwood suggested he return Lucy to Atherton under the pretence of having met upon the return journey, which was close enough to the truth that Lucy felt it would be accepted.
With an amicable mood and a promise to race at the next full moon, they loaded the coach and drove off into the morning. It amazed her how quickly the castle vanished behind them and, had she not made an effort to recall the path, she wondered if she might ever find it again.
‘So. What do you think?’ Lucy asked once they were well clear and on the road.
‘I don’t think they’re our highwaymen,’ Dashwood replied, his voice a mix of relief and disappointment.
‘No signs of the spoils. No signs of excess or of deprivation. They don’t need to rob anyone, which leaves only the thrill of the challenge as a motive.
And perhaps that is enough. But it doesn’t feel right, does it? ’
‘No. It doesn’t. They seem like good people. Not always lawful, but they were open about that too. There is no doubt they have the skills for it. And that they each love a challenge in their own way. But such robberies ill fit them.’
‘Political motive also seems unlikely. Torres has every reason to oppose France. Ulcha has reason enough to dislike the Crown, but I doubt she would drive a scheme, and the others expressed little interest in politics at all.’
‘Again it seems improbable as motivation.’
‘Which leaves us at a dead end on this trail.’
‘There are other trails?’
‘I hope so. Otherwise my superiors are going to start asking difficult questions, and I shall be short of answers. Well, at the very least we had good company, interesting meals and you hopefully learned a great deal about coaches.’
‘Most certainly.’ Lucy nodded.
‘In that case, you had best tell me what you learned.’
And for the rest of the journey, Lucy did.